


Let Me Show You How to Go

by transfixeddream



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:31:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transfixeddream/pseuds/transfixeddream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Danny <i>does</i> find Stiles attractive. Um, pretty much PWP.</p><p>Also posted <a href="http://transfixeddream.livejournal.com/132059.html">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Show You How to Go

"Uh, you know you don't have to--"

Stiles is saying this as Danny's hand squeezes his thigh, fingers just under his thin mesh shorts. Danny laughs a little, unable to help himself, because Stiles' voice is so high and tight, shaken with nerves and arousal and it's so goddamn sexy.

"I want to," Danny says, because it's true. Stiles is hot, especially like this, lip caught between his teeth, cheeks already flushed. It's far from an obligation, and just to prove his point, Danny slides his hand farther up Stiles' shorts, until his fingertips graze the head of his rapidly swelling cock.

The effect is instant: Stiles' mouth drops open and he takes in a sharp breath, his body sliding into the touch, legs spreading wider. Danny, in return, slides his palm up the length of it, fingers gripping at the base.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Danny asks, mostly as a joke. He doesn't think Stiles would back out now. "You don't _have_ to," he adds, trying to mimic Stiles and probably failing; he has much more important tasks to focus on.

When Stiles shoots him a death glare, Danny just laughs again and lets go of Stiles' dick. He gets off the bench, mindful of the towel tied tightly around his hips, and gets down on his knees between Stiles' spread legs. Danny slips his fingers under the waistband of Stiles' shorts, and then looks up at Stiles, just to be completely sure. But there's no reservation on his face, just want and lust and _surprise_.

Danny licks his lips and says, "Lift up your hips."

Stiles complies immediately, and Danny pulls his shorts down just as fast, and Stiles lets out a soft moan as his dick is freed. And Stiles, Stiles has a beautiful cock. Long and hard, jutting up, the head flushed red with a small trickle of precome. Danny wastes no time getting a hand around it, and he jacks it a few times, getting used to the feel of it, glancing up at Stiles' face a few times to see what he especially likes. When Danny twists his hand on the upstroke, Stiles practically shudders, so he keeps doing that.

Stiles is already breathing hard, his hands clenched into fists on either side of him. His eyes are half-lidded and he's biting his lip again, and Danny suddenly wants nothing more than to lean up, pull him down and kiss him hard.

Instead, he grips Stiles' thigh with his free hand and he sucks the head of Stiles' dick into his mouth. Stiles' taste is immediate in his mouth, salty and bitter and heady, and it fills his mouth so perfectly. Stiles, for his part, lets out a shallow gasp and bucks up into Danny's mouth immediately, but Danny uses both hands to keep him place, while Stiles keeps repeating, "Sorry, sorry."

Danny hums, because he doesn't really want to pull off, and then he wraps his hand around the base of Stiles' dick again. His own cock his hard under the towel, but he ignores it for now and takes Stiles deeper, halfway down, then up and back down again, working his tongue against the vein there as he goes.

Stiles is spitting out words now, things like "Shit, Danny," and "Please, please, more," and "Oh _god_ , yes, fuck, come _on_." Danny's not really a fan of dirty talk, because nine times out of ten it's more awkward than anything, but listening to Stiles ramble on and lose his cool, grinding out profanities between clenched teeth-- _this_ he could get used to.

He pulls off of Stiles' dick with a slick pop and his hand takes over, jacking Stiles the way Danny's learned he likes it all of two minutes ago, twisting as he goes up, spreading his spit on the length of Stiles' dick. He manages to tear his eyes from away from the image of his fist slipping around Stiles' dick and looks up at the guy. Stiles has his eyes closed--more like clenched, really--and he's taking ragged breaths through his mouth. He looks so fucked up and into it and Danny's dick grows harder just looking at him.

"You wanna stop?" Danny asks, and Stiles' eyes fly open, protest building on his lips. Danny chuckles, because while he cannot help provoking Stiles, he also has no intention on stopping this anytime soon. Before Stiles can say anything, Danny leans in and opens his mouth around him again, taking him in completely.

"Holy fucking _shit_ ," Stiles says, like it's the best thing ever, and loud enough that anybody in the nearby vicinity could hear him. There's no real danger of it; the game's been over for nearly an hour at this point and everybody is long gone. It doesn't help the urge Danny gets to shove his fingers in Stiles' mouth to keep him quiet, though.

Danny rests his hands on either of Stiles' thighs and squeezes slightly, feeling the pull of muscles as Stiles keeps them spread wide and in place. He slides off of Stiles' dick slightly, until it's more manageable--he loves the sound guys make when he takes them all the way, but he can't stay there for long. He takes one hand and makes a loose fist around the base of Stiles' cock, and then sucks hard, bobbing his head up and down as Stiles makes indistinguishable grunts above him. Danny knows that sound, knows that Stiles is so close.

His free hand skates up the rest of Stiles' thigh and onto his stomach, rucking up his jersey so Danny can feel his flat stomach, smooth and warm and wet with sweat. He slides up further, hand trailing up Stiles' chest until his fingers brush across his nipple, and it makes Stiles shudder in response.

"Danny, I'm--Oh, god I--"

Stiles can't even get the words out, but it's obvious anyway, and Danny goes deep again, not all the way but close enough. He thumbs over Stiles' nipple and then squeezes, and just like that Stiles comes hard with a bitten-off shout, pulsing against Danny's tongue and spilling warm come down his throat. Danny has no intention of moving, but Stiles' hands come and hold his head so he can't go anywhere, anyway.

Danny swallows around Stiles' dick the best he can, but he can feel come dribble out of the edges of his mouth. He slides his hand down Stiles' chest and lets it rest at his stomach, and he rubs circles with his thumb, easing Stiles through the aftershocks. His dick is slowly softening in Danny's mouth, and Danny takes that as his cue to pull off completely, despite the surprisingly heated protests of Stiles.

He can feel Stiles' come sliding down his chin, and he wipes it up into his mouth with the side of his hand. He only notices Stiles' face after the fact, and he's staring at Danny with such open awe that Danny feels a little self-conscious. He stands up, and Stiles' eyes go a little wider at the sight of Danny's fully hard cock sticking out from between the line of his towel.

Danny grips it, squeezing hard and groaning at the immediate relief, not good enough but still _good_. He strokes it, base to tip, and then looks down at Stiles, whose eyes are focused on the movement, staring intently. Gone is the boy who couldn't stop saying whatever popped into his brain minutes ago, and Danny wonders if he likes the show. Danny bites his lip, because it won't take long at all, not with the taste of Stiles still in his mouth.

And then Stiles stands up and wraps his own hand around Danny's dick. Danny groans at the seriously unexpected touch, the unfamiliar hand on him. He drops his own hand away and breathes deeply, silently praying that Stiles does something, _anything_ with his hand.

"Uh, is this--" Stiles cuts himself off and licks his lips, which is just criminal. "Can I?"

"You have to," Danny says tightly, not even really joking.

Stiles moves in closer, until they're barely inches away, until the head of Danny's cock dips into the curve of Stiles' hip. Stiles lets go of his grip on Danny's cock, and Danny's about to protest before he realizes that Stiles is actually removing his towel. It drops to the floor and Danny kicks it out of the way, and he looks expectantly at Stiles.

Immediately Stiles' hand goes back on his cock, fingers fumbling as he strokes, uneven but so, so good. Danny grabs Stiles' free shoulder instinctively, because otherwise he's in real danger of falling on his ass. He thinks about the last dude that jerked him off, pressed against a wall behind a club, firm and skilled strokes that felt great at the time, and then he looks at Stiles, and down at where Stiles' fist is moving down the length of his cock. Stiles' hand is warm and a little sweaty, and it feels amazing on his dick.

 _This is better_ , he thinks.

Stiles, for all of his obvious inexperience, learns fast, and soon he's jerking Danny off with smooth, easy strokes. Danny can feel his balls tightening already, and it won't be long at all. He thrusts his hips into Stiles' fist once, twice, and then he's coming, shooting into Stiles' hand and onto his jersey.

Stiles jerks him through it, and Danny's breathing hard through his nose, eyes unfocused and a little dazed. He lets himself blame that for the reason he easily lets Stiles pull his head down and lock their lips together. Stiles hasn't had a lot of practice at this either, but he kisses with enough force and enthusiasm to make up for it. He runs his tongue along the inside seam of Danny's lips and Danny opens his mouth willingly.

It's easy to tell the second Stiles tastes himself in Danny's mouth. He makes a low groan and squeezes Danny's hip, and Danny licks into his mouth in response. He can feel Stiles already getting hard again, dick pressing against Danny's leg, and while the temptation to keep this going is great, Danny pulls away, gasping a little.

Stiles looks to be in the same state he's in, panting hard, wet with sweat. He's rubbing the knuckle of his thumb against his bottom lip, and Danny suddenly feels too exposed without his towel. They don't say anything, just take a few moments to get their breathing back to normal. It's not even awkward, which Danny thinks is maybe a little weird, considering he just blew a guy who he thought was straight up until thirty minutes ago.

"So, um," Stiles finally starts after a few minutes of shared silence. "That was, wow. Yeah. Yeah, that was _wow_." He lets out a little laugh and Danny can't help but return it, nod and rub the back of his neck.

"Yeah, wow," he agrees, and then he notices his come drying on Stiles' jersey. "Oh, shit. Your jersey."

Stiles looks down and takes in the picture. He looks back up at Danny with wide eyes, and a fuller flush than he had a few seconds ago. "Good thing I do my own laundry, huh?"

And that gets a laugh out of Danny, because _this_ is the Stiles he remembers. "Yeah, good thing." He jerks his head to his right. "I need another shower."

Stiles nods and rubs his hands together, but it's not until Danny raises an eyebrow that he finally says, "Oh, yeah. Me too."

Danny snorts and picks up his towel, and when he heads to the showers, Stiles is right behind him.

He's not sure what this is--or if it's really _anything_ \--but he thinks he'd like to find out.


End file.
